Punk'd

My daughter "Bugs" and I were shopping at our local drugstore last night. We were standing toward the back of the store when two teenage kids walked up to us.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" the first kid began. He was a puny white kid, greasy hair artfully combed into what he thought was a "statement". I estimated he was about 14 years old, but he could have been older. He was holding a small pack of adult diapers.

"Yes?" I said.

"Can you tell me where the cash registers are?" he asked. OK, this was obviously starting to be a set up.

"Sure," I said. "They're up front."

Emboldened, the punk shot his friend a glance and continued. "I was wondering if you could help me. You see, I need to buy diapers for my son here." The older boy, a taller black kid, looked a tiny bit nervous but was obviously willing to play along. As I was.

"REALLY?" I said loudly to the black kid. "I am SO SORRY to hear about your bladder control problems! Is there diarrhea too? That makes ALL THE DIFFERENCE in what DIAPERS you select!"

Both of the boys looked a little startled by my enthusiasm.

"Come here," I said in a chirpy saleswoman tone. "Let me help you." I grabbed the black kid by one arm and whirled the little white kid around, pushing him to the diaper aisle.

"Now let's see here," I said when we got there. "Here's a wide selection. Don't forget to take his height and weight into your calculations. OH, and don't forget baby wipes! It's very important to clean your butt crack THOROUGHLY!"

I then turned around and left them standing there.

I was at the register as they slunk out of the store. They had almost made it to the automatic sliding doors when I called out loudly in front of all the people at the register "Bye bye, boys! Don't forget the diaper creme for diaper rash! You don't want to suffer from THAT!"

They were out the door in record time.